


Honest Signals

by obaewankenope (rexthranduil)



Series: Signalling Theory: Blue Coat [4]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Aposematism, Badass Newt Scamander, M/M, Reckless Newt, Signalling Theory, Snarky Percival Graves, So SO carried away with, The lunch meet-up I got carried away with, Who is giving Percy far more grey hairs than is necessary lmao, part four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 14:13:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9495041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rexthranduil/pseuds/obaewankenope
Summary: In nature, Honest Signals, are signs that animals display in order to show a genuine desire to mate. Unfortunately, with humans, these displays can be chaotic and easily misunderstood when there's a lot of baggage about. Especially if there's three Auror's and a magizoologist involved.





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's 03:06 right now and I actually can't see what I'm typing my eyes are so tired. I'm so tired. I've retyped this notes section about four times now and I'm just done at this point. If you see any mistakes (I don't care) message me or sth and I'll fix them when I can see properly in a few hours. 
> 
> Enjoy 10-feckin-k of words from Percy and Newt's perspectives.

Percy wondered if he'd been cursed at birth to have eternally poor luck in regards to social interaction. It would potentially explain his woeful inability to handle idle conversation and the constant habit people exhibited towards white lies. Or, alternatively, he wondered if this was some sort of gods' awful attempt by the universe to apologise for the circumstances that had led to his kidnapping, and subsequent months of knowing his face was being worn by that bastard Grindelwald.

If it was the latter, rather than the former, Percy decided, then the universe needed to  _ stop  _ trying to make amends immediately for the sake of his remaining sanity.

"Graves, you look like you've been force-fed a lemon!" Theseus laughed brightly, giving Percy an amused look as he leaned back in his seat.

The small cafe  — apparently chosen by the younger Scamander after firmly turning down the elder's suggestion of a speakeasy which Percy found both responsible and somewhat frustrating because he could  _ really  _ do with some No-Maj liquor right about now  — catered to a variety of magical and non-magical patrons. Percy had found himself immensely grateful at the younger Scamander's insistence on it being the location for their lunch since they at least served good coffee.

A lunch Percy had firmly refused when asked so he was still somewhat confused as to how he had ended up here anyway. Somehow he thought it had something to do with his own innate curiosity, the beseeching look Goldstein had given him when they'd been asked by the Scamander's, and, well, the fact that Percy's stomach chose to betray him at the worst possible moment and admit that he'd skipped breakfast that morning.

Percy shot Theseus a dark look, wondering just why the British Auror was so informal with someone who could conceivably be seen as his superior, especially when his brother sat beside him looked so scandalised. They were so different yet looked so alike that it was a little disorienting for Percy to interact with them both. Theseus Scamander however, at least according to the back-channels, had a starting habit of disregarding the rank-and-file of Auror departments unless he was working on a case. That, Percy accepted readily, was something both siblings seemed to have in common; even if the younger Scamander brother was far more reserved and polite than his brother managed to be. 

The carefully innocent look on Goldstein's face made at Theseus' comment made Percy want to scowl. Theseus Scamander had his brother's ability to turn proper etiquette on its head with no warning it seemed. How else could Percy explain his own Auror's amusement at Percy's predicament? Especially when said Auror was purposefully avoiding looking at her boss by stirring her coffee intently.

"Thee!" The younger Scamander hissed at his brother, poking him sharply in the side. Theseus jerked in his seat, the wooden legs scuffing the floor with a quiet screech that was muted under a silencing charm. "Don't be so rude!"

A silencing charm that Percy  _ hadn't  _ cast. He had intended to cast one the moment they took their seats, following his own habits when out among the general public, but Theseus had dragged him away from the table before he could even take off his coat, declaring that they'd both get everyone drinks together.

Percy had had to fight back the urge to break the elder Scamander's hand when he'd touched him. Physical contact was still something Percy had to work on after his imprisonment. The healer's hadn't wanted to let him go without mandatory seasons with a mind healer, but Percy had damn near terrorised them into letting him go. He refused to be left on the sidelines for the sake of his delicate constitution.

To hell with such reasoning.

By the time the pair of Auror's had returned to the little table their group had commandeered, Percy had sensed that wards had been put up  — some he identified as Goldstein's work, others he assumed were Scamander's — and had reasoned with himself over the wasteful expenditure of his magic if he were to cast his own wards as well. In the end, he'd cast a single, wandless charm to warn him of any impending danger and left it at that.

Percy hadn't realised any of his companions had cast a silencing charm however. It wasn't standard practice for low-level Auror's at MACUSA — something Percy was already working to rectify — and he doubted Goldstein knew the charm to cast in the first place. Her wand was also still secured in her holster and she obviously hadn't redrawn it since they'd sat down at the table with their drinks.

Since Theseus had been with Percy procuring their drinks, he dismissed the other Auror as the caster, recognising that, while Theseus Scamander was certainly more than powerful enough to cast wandlessly, Percy hadn't sensed any magical surge that usually accompanied wandless magic. That, of course, left Newt Scamander as the caster. 

Percy found that an interesting thought and he found himself watching the younger Scamander, cataloguing his behaviour as he interacted with his elder brother. 

"You can't tell me I'm wrong, Newt! He looks grumpier than Titus did when mother had to ground him after he broke his wing!" Theseus shot back at his brother, grinning at the way his younger brother bristled. "Am I wrong Auror Goldstein?" He asked suddenly, looking at Percy's Auror who blinked.

If Percy wasn't mistaken he thought he saw a flash of fear in his subordinate's eyes. The sight reassured Percy that, no, he wasn't as lacking in intimidation as he'd started to believe; apparently it had simply become a more subtle form.

Good. 

"Of course you're wrong Thee!" Newt said quickly, drawing his brother's attention back to him before Goldstein could open her mouth to reply. "That's why you're looking for someone else to support your statement!"

Percy definitely wasn't mistaken at the grateful look Goldstein gave the younger Scamander. His lips quirked slightly in as close a smile Percy would allow himself out in public. 

Theseus laughed, rolling his eyes at his brother's words. "Whatever," he laughed. "Seriously though Graves, you don't need look like we've dragged you here against your will."

Percy quirked an eyebrow at Theseus. "Why not?" He asked dryly, noticing the way the younger Scamander and Goldstein both looked at him  — the former glancing away quickly while the other continued to stare. "That's precisely what you did isn't it?"

A silent huff of breath from the younger Scamander let Percy know that he found his statement amusing at least, and Percy was surprised with how the knowledge pleased him to know. He hadn't ever really cared for what other people thought of his sarcastic sense of humour before, but apparently he was aware enough of Newt Scamander to find his positive reaction endearing. Merlin help him, he was developing a fondness for a wizard he hadn't exchanged more than ten words with since they'd met!

"Say what you like, Graves." Theseus shook his head at his colleague. "I know that you were just as desperate to get out of your office as Newt was to avoid letting me find one of your secret watering holes."

"I don't think I was quite that desperate, Scamander," Percy shot back, lip curling into a sharp smirk. "I haven't hexed you yet."

Theseus laughed. His brother and Goldstein glanced at each other, briefly exchanging looks of dim surprise at the back-and-forth between the two Auror's. 

Percy rarely engaged with his subordinates in such a manner and he knew that his verbally repartee with Theseus was confusing Goldstein but, well, Theseus wasn't one of his Auror's and, in a way, Percy found that far more liberating in regards to his behaviour than he thought he would have. 

Perhaps before Grindelwald he might have been more reserved but… Percy had spent weeks anticipating his demise at the hands of a mad, Dark wizard who was intent on destroying everything Percy had worked to protect. It had changed his perspective somewhat.

"Promises, promises." Theseus waved his hand casually. "The day you actually follow through with that threat will be the day I sic a Hippogriff on you."

"No you won't," Newt cut in suddenly, glaring at his brother through narrow eyes. Percy was surprised to note the way Theseus' shoulders hunched slightly at his brother's tone. 

Theseus looked at his brother, trying for an innocent look that didn't deter Newt for a second. 

Newt held eye contact with his brother for more than three seconds  — surprising Percy because, honestly, he didn't know the Scamander was capable of any length of eye contact that last more than a second  — before he smiled suddenly.

The tension in Theseus' shoulders increased noticeably and Percy raised an eyebrow, honestly intrigued at that. Out of the corner of his eye, Percy saw Goldstein's attention shift as she too picked up on the change.

Percy didn't bother fighting back the pride he felt at his Auror's sharpness. She was shaping up to being an exemplary Auror, only a few short weeks after her reinstatement, and it was warming for Percy to realise his department had at least  _ one  _ promising witch in it.

"Mother would insist you use one of the Griffin's instead," Newt said, his eyes gleaming with a surprisingly wicked brightness that made something in Percy curl in interest at the sight.

Theseus' shoulders relaxed and he laughed sharply. "Good point," he agreed, nodding at his brother with a smile. 

He looked at Percy. 

"Griffin's are far more terrifying in the own way." He explained, a gleam of amusement in his blue-grey eyes.

"Also far less patient than any Hippogriff I've met," Newt added quietly, shifting in his seat until he was nestled against its wooden back, hands fiddling with the sleeves of his blue coat nervously. His entire demeanour changed in the blink of an eye and Percy found the rapid shift disorienting.

One moment the younger Scamander would be silent and shy, nervously stuttering out an answer to a question, gaze fixed on anything but whoever was speaking to him. Then the next, he'd be sitting with the same casually relaxed air that his brother had, still tinged with the watchfulness all Auror's had no matter the occasion, speaking far more smoothly than made any sense. And then, just as quickly, he'd be back to a shy, stuttering mess.

Percy didn't understand it but his instincts flared at the rapid change. 

"True," Theseus conceded, lifting his cup of tea to his lips and taking a sip. "You remember the time I brought Smithy to the house after the Dragon Smuggler case? I thought Rhapsody was going to murder him then and there!"

Newt glanced at his brother, a tiny smirk on his face. "He should have known better than insult Rhapsody's child; we both know she's terribly protective of her offspring. Remember when she nearly mauled me because I sneezed next to Caligula?"

Goldstein let out a surprised sound and the younger Scamander glanced at her, eyebrows raised in surprise before his gaze darted away. 

"It wasn't her fault," Newt explained, a note of earnestness in his voice. Theseus nodded at Goldstein and Percy, backing up his brother's words. "She was terribly concerned for her foal after she lost the first one, you see."

"Catullus," Theseus said quietly, a sad note in his voice that made Percy look at the elder Scamander. Clearly both brother's cared deeply about magical beasts, even if their career paths' differed.

"Yes," Newt nodded solemnly. "She was ever so sorry once she'd calmed down. Wouldn't let me leave her stable until mother managed to convince her that I wasn't hurt."

Percy and Goldstein  — really, he'd call her by her first name one day  — digested that information silently as the two brother's glanced at each other with a spark of sadness in their gazes. 

Percy found that the image his mind conjured up of the incident was of a small, thin, gangly-limbed child with a mop of golden hair, that held the traits of ginger the younger Scamander would grow into as he aged, standing before a large beast with black eyes and a gleaming beak that could easily kill him, not afraid in the slightest and reassuring it that he was fine.

Somehow Percy doubted much of the younger Scamander's behaviour had changed over the years when he was faced with dangerous beasts. If anything, he figured it had probably worsened.

"Newt," Goldstein said suddenly, causing the magizoologist's eyes to jump to her face. "You are, quite literally, a disaster."

The magizoologist blinked at Goldstein, mouth opening silently in surprise as his brother threw his head back and cackled.

"She's got you down brother!" Theseus cackled, jostling his brother with a shoulder that snapped the younger Scamander out of his surprised silence.

"What- I- No I'm not!" The younger Scamander stuttered indignantly, eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe as his gaze darted among the three Auror's. "I'm not!"

"Your first visit to New York began with you losing your case full of creature of  _ highly questionable  _ origins and ended with you fighting a Dark wizard single-handedly, attempting to capture an Obscurial, and then releasing a  _ Thunderbird  _ in order to erase the evidence of one of the largest and most significant breaches of the Statute in recent history," Percy pointed out dryly, fixing the magizoologist with a steady look. "If that doesn't qualify for 'disaster' I'm not quite sure what  _ does _ ."

Theseus snorted as his brother blushed bright red at Percy's words. "Nice summary of your  _ modus operandi  _ Newt," he said, grinning widely at the glare his brother shot him. "Can't deny it now brother! That's straight from the head of the MLE department  _ this  _ side of the Atlantic."

"One example does not a case make," Newt shot back at his brother. Goldstein laughed.

"Then it's good thing it's not the only example I can cite Mister Scamander," Percy said smoothly, not reacting to the way Theseus and Goldstein both looked at him in surprise. The magizoologist didn't look at him, not directly, but he did turn his gaze in Percy's direction. "My counterpart in Cairo had some interesting stories to share with me in our last talk."

Theseus snorted, shaking his head in amusement at Percy's words. Goldstein rolled her eyes, muttering under her breath about her lack of surprise at Percy's statement.

Percy ignored both of them. He was interested in the magizoologist's reaction. How Newt Scamander would respond to Percy's words would go a long way in helping him truly understand the wizard.

"Oh." Scamander's voice was quiet, soft, and his gaze remained fixed on anything that wasn't Percy's face. The magizoologist's complexion looked no different and Percy couldn't see any obvious twitches or reactions that usually accompanied surprise in a person. In fact, Percy realised, Scamander had an astonishing level of control over his body and its instinctive reactions. "What did he- uh- say about… me exactly?"

Interesting.

"He mentioned nearly throwing you into the Nile for the crocs to eat on several occasions," Percy answered honestly and his sharp gaze saw the moment the magizoologist's body betrayed him. A tiny twitch of his right eye, so slight it was something Percy would have easily missed had he not been watching so intently.

So Scamander  _ didn't  _ have absolute control then, but he did have  more than enough for Percy to strongly suspect that a lot of the younger Scamander's shy behaviour was a front designed to mislead people. The question then, Percy found himself wondering, was  _ why _ ? Seraphina often altered her behaviour depending on who she was dealing with but never to such an extent that Newt Scamander seemed to consistently portray. It was…  _ intriguing _ .

"You must have  _ really  _ pissed him off Newt," Theseus said casually, grinning at his brother. "I've never known Al-Shalad to only  _ nearly  _ throw someone into the Nile. Usually he doesn't give them any warning and just-" Theseus mimed throwing something "-does it." He paused, blinking, before adding, "or he likes you and finds you annoying at the same time."

"I have a feeling that's more likely," Goldstein said, ducking her head to hide her smile when the younger Scamander's head snapped round and he looked at her. "You do have that effect on people Newt," she pointed out, almost apologetically, but the sigh Scamander let out seemed to relax her.

"I told you, Newt," Theseus said, leaning forward in his chair to put his elbows on the table. He smirked at his brother, voice holding a note of amusement. "You're like marmite; people either love you or they hate you, but still keep you around just in case."

Percy snorted suddenly, surprising Goldstein, at the dry look the magizoologist gave his brother. 

"Thanks," Newt said. "I feel so much better now."

Theseus grinned. "Excellent!" He exclaimed brightly, pointedly ignoring his brother as he fixed his attention on the two American Auror's. "So! Tell me about something from your school years Auror Goldstein," he said to Goldstein. "Ilvermorny sounds much more interesting than Hogwarts. We only have a Giant Squid that tried to adopt Newt in his third year, you see? Nothing at all like this Wampus of yours at Ilvermorny!"

Goldstein stared at Theseus for a moment before glancing at Percy who gave her a nod of approval. She fixed her attention back on Theseus and began explaining the American School of Magic to the British Auror.

Percy tuned her out, having no desire to listen to a breakdown of his school, and focused on his drink, mind running over the things he still had to do. He had several cases to sign off on, a half-dozen warrants that he needed to read through before signing, and a meeting with Seraphina at the end of the week. There was also the matter of Grindelwald's second trial and the required tightening of security at MACUSA that he needed to take care of but —

"-alright Mister Graves?"

Percy blinked, realising suddenly that he'd become so immersed in his thoughts that he'd stopped paying any attention to what was going on around him. He bit back the now customary panic and anger mix that churned in his stomach each time he was startled. Just another parting gift from Grindelwald that Percy doubted he'd ever fully be rid of.

"Mister Graves?" Newt Scamander's voice was soft and quiet but, to Percy it was impossibly loud as he looked at the magizoologist sat opposite him. They were seat around a small round table, their seats angled so that Percy could technically argue he was both sitting next to and facing the younger Scamander sibling. "Are you alright?"

Percy's dark gaze met Scamander's brighter one, surprised for a moment that the younger wizard didn't immediately break eye-contact once it was established, and he nodded slowly. "Ah yes," he said, equally as quiet as Scamander. "Busy thinking about my work," he added for the magizoologist, feeling an urge to explain himself to the younger Scamander.

Goldstein and Theseus were still speaking, now discussing Quidditch if Percy was hearing right, leaving himself and the younger Scamander to their own devices. Percy entertained a brief thought that this was the universe trying to make up for the Grindelwald Affair, before he forcefully dismissed the idea.

"Oh…" Newt blinked, finally looking away from Percy, and the magizoologist nodded, a light blush on his face. "Of course, I- I should have realised you'd be- uh- busy with- with work matters of course, forgive me."

Percy's brow furrowed slightly as he stared at the magizoologist. If Scamander was trying to manipulate him with his shy behaviour… well… Percy couldn't exactly say it  _ wasn't  _ working, but, even so, he found himself reluctant to let the matter drop. He probably should however. No matter if Scamander was naturally shy or not, if his contradictory behaviour was intentional or not, Percy really did have a lot to do and should devote as much time as he could to it.

Unfortunately however, Percy was far too curious about Newt Scamander and couldn't let their conversation die-out without trying at least once to engage the magizoologist. Curse his curious nature. His mother always did say Percy was like a cat; haughty, standoffish, snobbish, and far too curious about things to let things go before he got bit.

"No," Percy said suddenly and Scamander's eyes jumped to his face, momentarily startled, before darting away again. "Even  _ I _ have to take a break every now and then, the work will still be there when I return."

"Uhm, yes- yes, quite right," Newt mumbled, shrugging a shoulder awkwardly and Percy couldn't help but watch the roll of the magizoologist's body beneath the blue fabric of his coat. The magizoologist was thin and lean, much like his brother, but Percy had already seen the wiry strength the younger Scamander possessed back at Grindelwald's first trial.

"Your brother mentioned that you're a writer Mister Scamander," Percy said, fishing about for the first thing that came to mind that wasn't related to Grindelwald. Scamander's head rose sharply, eyebrows disappearing into his hair for a second as he blinked at Percy. 

The magizoologist really did have the brightest eyes Percy had ever seen. It was a strange thing for him to notice, but notice it he did and Percy had no clue what to do with that knowledge so he pushed it aside and focused on trying to talk to the magizoologist.

"I- uh- yes," Newt stammered, twisting the fabric of his coat sleeve in nimble fingers. Percy's gaze flicked down to those fingers for a moment before returning to Scamander's face, but the moment was enough for the magizoologist's fidgeting to cease.

He was sharp, Percy noted, a sense of approval developing at Scamander's reaction. Sharp and quick to react. Percy imagined that Newt Scamander would make a devastating Auror if he weren't quite so shy.

"It's still uh- not quite finished yet, there's- I have some recent additions to add to it you see, very recent discoveries that I really want to include in it before I- well-" Newt explained, stumbling over his words as he spoke quickly, voice soft and quiet in the cafe. Percy found himself as equally interested in what Scamander was saying as how he was saying it.

That exuberant enthusiasm for his work was obvious in the way Scamander spoke, so quickly he tripped over his words, with a note of fondness in his voice. It was clear that magical creatures were Scamander's passion, one he'd managed to make a career out of.

Percy found himself leaning forward in his seat slightly, barely noticeable, in his interest at Scamander's near-monologue as he spoke of his work, his creatures, and his writing. 

"Oh, oh I'm terribly sorry," Newt said suddenly, cutting himself off mid-sentence. Percy raised an eyebrow at the magizoologist. "I must be boring you something terrible-" 

"Not at all Mister Scamander," Percy interrupted smoothly, watching Scamander's face avidly as the magizoologist blinked in surprise at Percy's words. "I find your passion for your work refreshing."

"Uh- I- refreshing?" Scamander stuttered out, blinking rapidly as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Percy's lip quirked at the sight. 

Scamander was surprisingly endearing when caught by surprise. 

"Very," Percy clarified, enjoying the sudden eye contact Scamander initiated. The younger Scamander's blue-green eyes were wide and bright, full of surprise and hints of wariness. He very much reminded Percy of one of the feral cats his mother had allowed Percy to befriend at their home when he'd been a child. Reluctant to trust in what it saw, but curious enough not to instantly back away from something that didn't act outright threatening toward it. 

"We rarely come across beasts in New York but the smuggling rings still operate in the city," Percy explained, providing Scamander a reason he could accept for Percy's interest; he doubted the magizoologist would accept honest curiosity on his part. "Your knowledge could prove to be invaluable if I were to come across an Occamy nest or an injured Quintaped." 

Scamander stared at him, blinking owlishly, and Percy wondered if he'd shocked the man into a stupor. It wouldn't be the first time that had happened, of course. 

"You uh- you won't come across any Quintaped's in New York Mister Graves," Newt said suddenly, words soft and hesitant in a way that caught Percy's attention. He gave the magizoologist a questioning look which Scamander saw before he looked away from Percy again, gaze darting across the room, lingering on tea cups and coat tails for scant seconds before jumping away again. "They're only found on the Island of Drear I'm afraid, and it's been made quite impossible to get to."

"Nowhere is impossible to get to Mister Scamander," Percy pointed out. "Someone always finds a way."

"The Island is unplottable Mister Graves." Newt's gaze hovered over Percy's shoulder, giving the illusion of eye contact that would fool most but not Percy. "No-one has been- has visited the Island since the families on it died."

"Died?" Percy straightened up, intrigued and a little alarmed at the mention of murder. Though… Scamander hadn't said 'murder', he's said 'died'. Too vague a term. "Were they murdered? Killed by the beasts?"

Had Percy not been staring at Scamander's face when he'd asked his questions, he doubted he'd have seen the way Scamander's right eye twitched at his words. That was a  _ definite  _ tell with the magizoologist and Percy filed that information away in the mental file he was building of the younger Scamander. 

"Not initially no." Newt shook his head, fringe falling into his eyes and obscuring them from view. Percy found it inexplicably annoying and also endearing. "As near as anyone could tell, the two families that lived on the Island had a long-standing feud between themselves and- well- there was a challenge issued between them that- that uh- one of them died."

Percy nodded at Scamander's story, understanding the reality of what the magizoologist was talking about. He'd dealt with a number of challenges issued between families over the years, usually over some nonsense insult or other, and had seen more than his fair share of sticky ends that the challengers faced. 

"According to the legend surrounding the Island and the Quintaped's, they were actually a wizarding family who were- uh- transfigured into beasts," Newt explained, gesturing slightly with his hands. Percy's attention was drawn to those hands for a fraction of a second before returning to Scamander's face.

The magizoologist was quite honestly in his element explaining creatures, just talking about them, and Percy was more than content to let him continue. He hadn't been lying when he'd said it was refreshing to listen to someone be so passionate about their interests. Percy had seldom had to opportunity to talk to another person who wasn't an Auror, criminal or a reporter of some sort in a very long time.

"They're highly dangerous creatures; carnivorous, with a particular fondness for human flesh," Newt continued. "The Island was made unplottable to protect Muggles and Wizards alike from stumbling across it and becoming the Quintaped's next meal."

Percy stared at the magizoologist for a long moment. "You've been to the Island haven't you?" He asked bluntly, taking no small pleasure in the honest surprise Scamander showed in his eyes as they jumped to Percy's face.

The magizoologist glanced at his brother quickly, a note of nervous tension in his frame, and Percy had the strong feeling that this was something Theseus Scamander didn't know of his brother's travels.

Apparently Newt Scamander was full of surprises.

"It was- uh- necessary for my work," Newt answered quietly, shifting in his seat minutely. Percy took that as a sign for Scamander's discomfort with Percy's insight. "They weren't too fond of my presence of course but- they weren't really much of a bother for me." Scamander shrugged awkwardly. "They didn't appreciate the dragon fire I use for camping you see? It was most problematic."

"Problematic." Percy repeated blankly. "For them or for you?"

"Excuse me?" Scamander's brow furrowed, nose scrunching up in confusion at Percy's words, but the Auror wasn't fooled for a second. Scamander knew precisely what he was asking, he just didn't want to clarify.

"I can't imagine it was easy for you to study them if the dragon fire kept them at a distance," Percy explained calmly, keeping his tone level. Scamander was a sharp individual, sharper than Percy had expected, and he couldn't afford to sound accusatory.

Percy was quite enjoying their conversation. Even if Scamander's exploits did tend towards near death-experiences and grievous bodily harm.

"Oh well-" Scamander glanced at his brother again, fingers fiddling with the sleeves of his coat "-it wasn't a problem once I put out the fire," he said brightly, voice still quiet but carrying a note of pleasure at his actions.

Percy closed his eyes. "You put out the fire," he repeated mildly, opening his eyes and staring at Scamander. The magizoologist made a sound to the affirmative. "The fire that kept carnivorous creatures from attacking you. Creatures that enjoy eating human beings," he continued slowly, almost as though he was talking to a child. 

Percy doubted he'd have ever had to have this sort of conversation with a child, however.

"Well yes." Scamander frowned, staring at Percy with a confused look in his eyes. Interesting how the magizoologist had no problem with eye contact now, Percy couldn't help but note as he breathed out slowly. "They wouldn't come near to me otherwise."

"That," Percy bit out. "Would  _ not  _ have been a bad thing in my opinion."

Percy opened his eyes, feeling like he was going to see an expression of sad confusion on Scamander's face, put there by Percy obvious lack of enthusiasm for the possibility of being ripped apart limb by limb by carnivorous beasts. 

Instead, he was met with an ashamed tilt to Scamander's shoulders, head ducked down, gaze down and to the side. Huh. 

"Ah yes," Scamander agreed a little ruefully. "I do sometimes forget my uh- actions, may be seen as quite absurd to others."

Percy raised an eyebrow. "Absurd would be moving away from your camp to try and tempt the creatures," Percy said dryly. "Insane is extinguishing the fire in its entirety."

Scamander's eyes lifted to Percy's face and he couldn't help but point out to the magizoologist. "Dragon fire is notoriously difficult to create in ideal conditions Mister Scamander, I've had to use it before myself. I consider it an unnecessary risk to douse it when it's so difficult to ignite in the first place. Especially when there are dangerous creatures who have no issue with tearing you limb from limb without it present."

"Oh." 

Percy nodded. "Oh."

The two fell into an awkward silence and Percy felt like cursing himself for being unable to withhold comment. For all he knew, there could have been a reason Scamander had been forced to put out his campfire, extenuating circumstances or something. Who was Percy to comment on the man's choices when he was the specialist when it came to magical creatures? 

A curling sensation, not dissimilar to guilt, rolled in Percy's gut as he sipped his coffee simply for something to do in the lull of their conversation. He had no idea what he could do to re-engage Scamander now, the magizoologist seemed to have almost caved into himself, not unlike the shelled creatures on the beach did when Percy had seen them as a child during family vacations. 

He was trying to determine what he could say to Scamander to try and begin a new conversation again  — perhaps ask him about his case of illegal creatures? No, that wouldn't make the wizard open up, especially since Percy was an Auror! What about his duelling skills? They could compare techniques? Spells? No. No, that would stray too close to Grindelwald territory. Merlin, but Percy had no clue what to talk about with the magizoologist now! 

This was why he avoided socialising with people. He was atrocious at it. 

"You're telling me your school doesn't have Quidditch!" Theseus exclaimed, voice suddenly abnormally loud to Percy and he fought back the instinctive need to jump at it. "Travesty!" 

Percy stared at the British Auror and his own subordinate, blinking away the momentary surprise at their existence. He'd honestly forgotten all about them while Scamander had been speaking. 

He hadn't even heard them. 

Percy's brow furrowed in confusion, smoothing out in the next moment, as he pondered that. Percy hadn't cast a silencing charm, or a muffling one for that matter, between Scamander and himself, so he had no idea why he hadn't noticed the conversation between Theseus and Goldstein. 

It was disconcerting. 

He glanced at Scamander, noticing how the magizoologist hadn't startled at the sudden reappearance of the conversation between their tablemates. Had Scamander cast without Percy noticing? 

If that was the case, Percy really wanted to know  _ how _ he'd managed such a feat. 

"Quidditch sounds horribly barbaric Theseus," Goldstein replied, a smile curving across her face, eyes sparkling brightly. 

"It is," Newt said suddenly, including himself in their conversation.

Percy didn't find that saddening, but he wasn't exactly sure how he felt about Scamander joining in the conversation between his Auror and Theseus. Percy had been enjoying  _ their _ conversation before he messed it up! 

"Did you play at school Newt?" Goldstein asked, looking at the magizoologist curiously. "Your brother says he was a—"  Goldstein paused, searching for the right word "—a keeper?" 

Theseus beamed at Goldstein, nodding. "Yep! Best keeper Gryffindor had in ten years, I was!" 

Newt snorted. "Only because you kept getting hit by the Quaffle." 

Theseus rolled his eyes. "Kept it out of the hoops didn't it?" 

"An extreme solution then," Percy commented lightly, smirking at Theseus when the elder Scamander looked at him. "The field reports from the war mentioned your penchant for  _ theatrics _ ."

Scamander and Goldstein both snorted at the affronted look Theseus adopted as the British Auror's head jerked back. "Theatrics!" He exclaimed. "Theatrics! Me?"

"Gryffindor." Newt muttered, earning a sharp glare from his brother and a burst of laughter from Goldstein. 

Theseus huffed. "I'll have you know," he began, pointing at Percy with a mock-accusing tone. "That I am not in the slightest bit theatrical."

"You brought Hogwarts to a standstill when you went off at Fawley in my second year for hurting his familiar." Newt pointed out innocently, avoiding the glare his brother shot him by glancing at Goldstein in amusement.

"Yeah well—" Theseus shrugged "—he was an arse anyway. Mother was proud of me at least."

"Mother is always proud of you," Newt said and Theseus shrugged again. 

"Father was pleased as well," Theseus replied, looking at his brother with a proud look on his face. "He bought me that set of gobstones I'd been after for months remember?"

Newt nodded, a smile on his face. "Didn't you charm them to repeatedly call Fawley names whenever you used them in the Great Hall?" He asked curiously. "Or was that a rumour?"

Percy stared at the two brother's, surprised when Theseus threw his head back suddenly and barked out a laugh. The younger Scamander didn't even bat an eye at his brother's behaviour, not in the slightest bit shy or reserved when he spoke to him. His stuttering, painfully shy nature was non-existent with his brother.

Percy wondered what it was about other people that made the magizoologist so nervous when interacting with them. He thought about Scamander's school file. Right. Of course. Children are cruel when they wish to be and Percy had plenty of his fellow classmates suffer during his school years. Scamander's not-expulsion probably hadn't helped his situation at school; indeed, it probably had made the whole experience worse.

"Rumour," Theseus said, shaking his head at the memory. "I tried to charm them once I heard it myself but, well, those sorts of charms always were beyond me. Too finicky for my tastes."

"I wasn't very good at charms in school either," Goldstein said, giving Theseus a commiserating look that the British Auror returned. "What about you sir?" She asked, glancing at Percy. "Did you have a class you hated?"

Percy looked at Goldstein, eyebrow raised as he considered his answer. "I never had much talent with potions," he answered eventually, seeing the magizoologist shift out of the corner of his eye. "I lacked the talent required for the 'fine art of potion making' according to my professor."

Theseus snorted as Goldstein frowned. "But we need at least passing grades to be considered for the Auror programme don't we?" She asked. Percy imagined she was thinking back on her own grades and if she'd perhaps been an overachiever or something similar.

The truth was that Goldstein's school grades had been quite excellent — even her Charms grade — but Percy wasn't going to mention that now. He saw no reason in revealing his knowledge of his subordinate's school history. 

It might make her think he was being critical of her and that was something Percy definitely did  _ not  _ want her to think.

"Passing grades aren't usually good enough for potions professor's to be honest," Theseus said, saving Percy from having to respond. "Professor Viridian declared most of my year completely hopeless in our final class before we took our final exams—" Theseus glanced at his brother, a gleam of amusement in his eyes that intrigued Percy as to its origin "—in my seventh year. Nevermind that most of us actually managed to scrape through with Exceeds Expectations which was more than he expected of us."

"What were your final year exams called?" Goldstein asked suddenly. "I think your fifth year exams are the same as ours: OWLS right? But seventh year exams are called AWES for us; Advanced Wizarding Exams. Are they the same in Britain?"

Percy looked at the younger Scamander as the magizoologist started at Goldstein's question. Why would he react so sharply to a simple question?

Theseus glanced at his brother again, that amusement tempered with caution, wariness, before he looked back at Goldstein and answered. "Uh, no actually." Theseus fiddled idly with his cup, tapping the rim of the cup with his forefinger. "We call them Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests actually…"

Percy blinked, his only reaction as Theseus' words sunk in. Goldstein looked at the magizoologist who almost seemed as though he'd collapsed in on himself, head down, gaze firmly focused on the table before him, golden hair blocking his face from view.

"That is a singularly awful acronym," Percy said bluntly, pointedly not looking at the younger Scamander, lifting his coffee to his lips and taking a sip of the cooling liquid. "At least we gave our exams a decent name rather than one thought up by a child."

Goldstein looked at him, confusion on her face, but Percy's look had her turning her attention to her drink quickly. 

Theseus stared at Percy with a hard look on his face. Percy returned his stare calmly, not in the slightest bit cowed by the British Auror. It seemed Theseus Scamander had expected them to make something out of the acronym but Percy was not that petty. Well, no, he was but only with people who he genuinely disliked. Newt Scamander was not someone Percy disliked and therefore didn't deserve such a low blow as the acronym would provide.

He doubted other's had been so considerate or reserved, hence Theseus' watchful concern for his brother.

"Tell me Mister Scamander." Percy looked at the magizoologist, pointedly dismissing Theseus' continued stare. Scamander tensed in his seat, head moving slightly and Percy imagine it allowed the magizoologist to look at him through the curtain of his golden hair. "Was there a subject you found not to your liking while at school? I can imagine you greatly enjoyed the magical creatures class during your school years."

The magizoologist's head rose higher, his hair falling to the sides a little, parting in a way that allowed Percy to glimpse Scamander's eyes for a moment. "I was uh- quite the average student I'm afraid, Mister Graves," Scamander replied softly, voice quieter than it had been throughout their entire time in the cafe. "Herbology perhaps? I don't uhm- seem to have much of a green thumb. At- at least, that's what my professor told me in my fifth year."

"Really?" Theseus asked, looking at his brother. "I thought you got Outstanding in your OWLS for Herbology? Or was that Charms?"

"That was Charms," Newt said, tilting his head to look at his brother who let out a surprised 'huh' at his brother. "I managed Exceeds Expectations in Herbology."

Theseus snorted. "Still higher than what I got." He looked at Percy and Goldstein. "Only class I straight up failed in my fifth year. Got a Troll mark."

Percy nodded. He had little talent with plants himself; the best he could do was water a cactus and that was a plant that took care of itself for all intents and purposes.

He was casting about for something to say, anything really, when the charmed watch in his breast pocket began to vibrate. Fishing the watch out of his pocket, Percy frowned. The face of the watch shimmered in an orange-red glow. He looked at Goldstein. She had a pulled back the sleeve of her right arm, revealing a wristwatch that had a face glowing the same shade as Percy's pocket watch.

"I'm afraid we have to cut this lunch short," Percy said apologetically, rising smoothly from his seat as he pulled out a Sickle and dropped it on the table. It landed with a dull thump as he pulled his overcoat on quickly; noting that Goldstein was doing the same out of the corner of his eye. "Duty calls."

"Of course," Theseus nodded, rising as well. He nodded to Percy and Goldstein as they prepared to leave. "We'll have to arrange another time to catch up then."

"That'd be lovely." Goldstein smiled at Theseus and his brother who was standing beside him. Percy hadn't even realised the younger Scamander had risen from his seat. "Newt, maybe you and your brother could come visit Queenie and I tonight? I'm sure she'd love to see you."

The magizoologist nodded, making eye contact with Goldstein for a brief moment, a small smile on his face as he agreed. "Uh- yes of course, that'd be lovely."

Percy didn't understand why but the younger Scamander's agreement rankled him. He couldn't explain it, but Percy had such a sudden feeling that the magizoologist shouldn't be spending time with Goldstein and his sister that he straightened the neck of his overcoat a little too fiercely, the material digging  into the back of his neck sharply for a moment.

"Thank you for the company," Percy said blankly, his voice purposefully devoid of emotion. He swept away from the table with a nod, Goldstein hurrying behind him, leaving the two Scamander brother's to their own devices.

He did not think about the way Newt Scamander had glanced at him as he passed him, something in his eyes that made Percy's stomach curl. He had a job to do. He couldn't afford to waste time thinking about a magizoologist who had no relevance to his case.

Still… Percy couldn't help his thoughts lingering on the magizoologist as he slipped into an alley near the cafe, Goldstein's hand on his arm, and apparated them into his office at MACUSA.  

 

* * *

 

"Well, I think that went pretty well!" Theseus said as soon as he shut the door to Newt's room behind them. "Graves didn't bite either of our head's off and that Tina seems like a nice girl."

Newt didn't respond to his brother, busying himself with removing his coat, already planning on escaping into his case for a few hours to avoid his brother. He knew, without a doubt, that Theseus was going to stick around until night fell. 

He moved towards his case, carefully placed beneath his bed, and crouched down on the floor to slide it out. 

"Mother would like her I think."

Newt's head snapped up sharply as he turned on the spot and resting his weight on one knee, far more smoothly than most would expect him to be, to fix his brother with a sharp look. "Absolutely not!" He said sharply.

"What?" Theseus exclaimed innocently, eyebrows raised as he stared at his brother. He raised his hands in a movement that conveyed his innocence but Newt knew it was a meaningless gesture from his brother. "I'm just saying; she's a nice girl."

"Tina is far too good for your to—" Newt searched for the words "—string along like a teenage fancy!"

Theseus blinked at his brother, a look of honest surprise crossing his face as he stared at Newt. "Wait," he said. "You think- That I- What the hell Newt? No! That's not what I meant!"

Newt's eyes narrowed. Theseus huffed out a breath. "Seriously brother," he protested. "I wouldn't ever try anything with the girl you're sweet on, what do you take me for!"

Newt opened his mouth to answer and froze as his brother's words registered. Theseus thought? About Tina? His eyes widened.

"I'm not—" Newt floundered, grasping his case absently as he stared at his brother.

"It's alright Newt," Theseus said, smiling at his brother. "I understand. You don't want me trying anything with her and you were worried I would. I'm sorry. I won't, you can trust me about this brother. I promise."

"No- I mean—" Newt cut himself off, impossibly frustrated with his inability to articulate that he really didn't see Tina in the way his brother thought he did. She was like a sister to him! Family! How could he—

_ Honestly _ .

"Nevermind." Newt shifted to rest on his knees, carefully placing his case on the ground in front of him. His fingers rested on the locks, the tingling sensation of magic on the locks registering to his senses and Newt breathed out a sigh of relief. The Niffler hadn't tried to escape since Newt had left his room this morning; thank Merlin!

Newt flicked the locks open with practiced ease, lifting the lid of the case up with his left hand to peer down into its depths. The ladder leading into the magically-created area was visible and Newt glanced over the top of the case, noting that his brother had apparently accepted Newt's dismissal and was now busying himself in the kitchenette. Theseus wasn't going to bother him for a while then. 

Climbing down the ladder, Newt went through his mental-checklist for what he needed to do in the case today. He had to feed his creatures; check each of their enclosures for damage or other issues that could affect their inhabitants; and generally do some work on the dragon enclosure he'd been steadily putting together over the past few months.

When Newt found Frank in Egypt all those months ago, he'd had to stop working on the enclosure; all of his spare time devoted to helping the Thunderbird recover from his ordeal. Now that Frank was gone however — back in Arizona according to the reports from some local wizards who knew of Newt's endeavours across the globe — Newt had time enough to work on the enclosure. 

It was a generic set-up for now, a blank slate of sorts, since Newt had no idea what sort of dragon he may have to house one day. Back during the war, Newt had set up specific enclosures from a variety of dragons they'd needed to keep away from the Muggle soldiers, and the different habitats each breed had required had been an exhausting, drawn-out process. Even dragons who lived relatively close to each other, geographically speaking, could require entirely different ecosystems and habitats; one preferring hills to mountains, the other open valleys and sharp cravasses. 

So, for now, Newt settled for a mixture of different type of geography; some open plains, a few valleys and fjords, and, naturally, a number of mountains since he'd only come across a handful of dragon breeds that didn't adapt well to mountainous regions in some way. 

As he greeted each of his creatures — spending a mite longer with Dougal than was probably fair — Newt's mind wandered back to the lunchtime get-together Theseus had planned. It had been nice to see Tina, especially since there hadn't been any impending disaster, escaped creatures, or Dark wizards to hide from, and Newt had found her presence relaxing.

Mister Graves' presence on the other hand had set Newt on edge for a while. The man still looked, and acted, very much like Grindelwald that Newt had found it surprisingly difficult not to draw his wand on the man. Tina's relaxed body language had helped, however; simply seeing the way the reinstated Auror spoke to her boss, how she didn't flinch away from him and clearly respected him, had been enough for Newt to pick up the differences between Grindelwald's impersonation and the real Percival Graves.

Whereas Grindelwald had been smooth and cutting, almost arrogantly disdainful most of the time, the real Mister Graves was less… not smooth, but less barbarous with his mannerisms. The undercurrent of constantly contained violence that Newt had felt emanated from Grindelwald was absent from Mister Graves.

Mister Graves behaviour also differed in small, yet significant ways. When Newt had been interrogated by Grindelwald, the Dark wizard had moved quite often, expressive with his body, his  _ hands _ , in a way that Mister Graves was not. He's hairstyle was different also; it softened his features, drew less attention to his eyes, and made him seem less… cold?

No, Newt shook his head. Not cold exactly. Similar but not exact. It was a slight thing, something Newt found he couldn't put into words, wouldn't be able to explain if asked, but he was able to recognise it easily enough. 

The small changes, differences, in Mister Graves behaviour compared to the impersonation by Grindelwald, had been enough for Newt to relax in the man's presence enough to engage in conversation. 

He still wasn't sure what had made Mister Graves ask about his creatures, about his work, since Newt doubted the American Auror really cared — even Tina wasn't all that interested in his work, for all that she found his creatures amazing to see up close — but the attempt had been pleasantly surprising for Newt. The fact that Mister Graves hadn't dismissed Newt's enthusiasm for his work, for his book, as well was even more surprising. 

It hadn't made Newt uncomfortable, not in the way he usually became with other's who enquired after his work, but it had been strange enough to have him withdrawing from the conversation with the American Auror. 

Unfortunately, Mister Graves hadn't seemed to accept Newt's withdrawal from the conversation, engaging him again about his work and somehow Newt had ended up talking about the Quintaped's. Of all creatures!

And then he'd gone and blurted out how he'd gone to their Island and put himself in — what he was sure, Mister Graves considered — danger, just so he could document the creatures! 

He'd been ready then and there to leave, Theseus' desire to socialise be damned, but then Tina had started on about school and exams and—

Newt shook his head, focusing his attention on the young Marmite feeding from the bottle he held. It was stronger than it had been a few weeks ago and getting stronger every day. He imagined it'd only be another two weeks or so before it wouldn't require bottle feeding any longer. 

The spark of sorrow that filled Newt's heart at that realisation seemed to merge with a sort of sadness that had already been lingering in it, one Newt hadn't realised he'd been feeling. It was a new sort of sadness, one he wasn't sure he could identify the cause of. While he firmly believed it was foolish to agonise over things, it would only make a person suffer twice to think over things that couldn't be changed, Newt found that he kept replaying his interaction with Mister Graves in the cafe. 

It made no sense. The sadness — or perhaps it was a sort of grief, Newt wasn't quite sure — seemed to swell as he thought of the way Mister Graves had withdrawn from their conversation, focusing on his work and duty as an Auror. Newt didn't fault Mister Graves, nor did he resent his dedication to his work — Theseus was much the same and Newt was hardly the first to cast stones at a person for their dedication to work and duty — but, remembering the way Mister Graves had swept out of the cafe, Tina following in his wake with a brief nod and an invitation to visit, had left him feeling… It had left Newt feeling like he'd just lost the one chance he had to coax an injured creature into his case so he could care for it.

"Oh what am I even thinking?" Newt muttered, shaking his head in exasperation. "Mister Graves isn't an animal and I really shouldn't be considering him as such now!"

The Marmite gave Newt a soft giggling squeak before it darted away, moving off towards its fellows and leaving Newt with an empty bottle and derisive commentary about his thought process.

He sighed. "I'm hopeless," he said, shoulders slumped as he stood from the spot he usually fed the Marmite from. "Absolutely hopeless," he continued, making his way through his case, dropping off bits and pieces of food for his creatures as he passed their habitats.

The Nundu perched on the large rock outcrop in its enclosure, watching Newt with dark eyes as he scattered meat for it. He stared at her for a moment, taking in the gleam of her fur, the scales that weren't quite scales along her neck, and, generally, enjoying how healthy she looked. When he'd rescued her over a year ago, the young Nundu had been half starved, bleeding heavily from dozens of wounds and so weak she hadn't been able to do more than whimper at Newt as he'd slowly approached her. Now she looked magnificent.

Newt had already accepted the fact that she was one creature who'd be with him indefinitely. There were no sanctuaries willing to take on a Nundu, and he couldn't set her loose into the wild after he'd spent so much time with her. She wouldn't flee from humans if she saw them, and Newt very much didn't wish for her to be harmed, or harm anyone out of instinct. 

It was a sad truth, Newt thought, retreating to the edge of the enclosure and watching as the Nundu rose from her spot on the rock outcrop, that such a magnificent creature would never again see the land she came from; forever relegated to Newt's imperfect recreation in his case.

Sad but necessary.

As were many of the things Newt had been forced to do in his life; from being forced to choose between watching a creature die a painful, agonisingly slow death or die quickly at his hand, to turning away from scores of Muggles running across bombed-out fields into the rat-a-tat-tat of machine guns… Newt had made many tough decisions in his life, both for himself and for others. 

It was a necessary part of his life that he deeply loathed, but a part he refused to place on anyone else's shoulders. The responsibility for his actions rested squarely upon his shoulders.

Credence's fate lay on Newt. He doubted Tina or Queenie would see it that way, but Newt had promised to help Credence, to protect him, and he'd failed. He should have stopped the Auror's in the subway, prevented them from harming the young man who had been a victim all his life. Instead… instead he'd stood there and watched.

There were a thousand reasons, justifications, that Newt could voice for why he hadn't acted, but in the end, it all boiled down to the fact that he'd frozen. Grindelwald's attack had been unexpected and brutal, a horrifying experience that had reignited every ounce of fear deep inside Newt's heart from his time beneath the Sphinx. It had disrupted his mental equilibrium, unbalanced him at the worst possible time, and Credence had paid the price for it.

Meeting Mister Graves in the cafe, speaking with the wizard who had been kidnapped, impersonated and imprisoned for months, had dredged up the pain and grief in Newt's heart over his failure to save Credence. It made little sense but, in a way, every time Newt had looked at the American Auror, he'd thought of Credence and the scream he had made as he died, the look Grindelwald had worn in the guise of Mister Graves, and it had made him tremble.

The interest Newt felt for Mister Graves was overshadowed by all the things he'd experienced in New York, the horrors it had brought back to the forefront of his mind, and Newt wasn't sure he had the strength of mind or heart to beat them back once more. 

Percival Graves had suffered, not because of Newt, but he had suffered and Newt felt as though he was partly to blame. Grindelwald had looked at him with such interest, such fascination, in the subway and at his trial, that Newt's skin had crawled at the wrongness of it. The obsession he could see forming in Grindelwald's mismatched eyes. The obsession with him, with Newt. 

The people that he cared about were at risk because of Grindelwald's interest in him — Newt knew that better than most except Albus Dumbledore — and, somehow, Mister Graves had become part of that group of people Newt cared for.

He had no idea how, he'd only spoken to the man once before today, but Newt couldn't deny the visceral response Newt felt at the idea of Grindelwald harming Mister Graves again. It was a response that was on par with how he felt imagining Tina, Queenie or Thee being hurt by the Dark wizard.

Newt moved through the cave habitat, noting the creatures within it as they crossed his path, taking in their state and mentally checking them off his to-do list. Frank's enclosure was dark, no longer active since its inhabitant was gone, and Newt stopped outside it, staring out across the barren land; a poor mimicry of Arizona made by Newt's hand.

Percival Graves mattered to Newt as much as his friends and family did, yet he couldn't count the American Auror among either group. Not yet, anyway. 

Newt stared blankly across the desert plain before him, a magically-created breeze ruffling his hair gently, the warm air making his skin tingle. Theseus thought Newt cared for Tina in a… deeper way, assuming that his fondness for Tina was borne out of an attraction towards her and, if his brother had asked him a few weeks ago, Newt conceded that he probably would have cared for Tina in such a way. But now…

Now, Newt looked at Tina and he saw a good friend, a strong woman and someone who he felt was family to him; the sister he'd never had. Queenie too felt the same. Both witches were brilliant and beautiful, would make whoever proved worthy of them the happiest of souls, but Newt didn't feel that way about them. 

He didn't feel that way about anyone. He didn't think he did. But… fondness…. Perhaps. Perhaps.

While Newt recognised that his behaviour was contradictory and confusing for a lot of people, especially a near stranger who's only knowledge of him came from second-hand accounts, he also recognised the fact that most people saw only what they wanted to see in his behaviour. If they assumed he was a fool, then that was all they saw in his behaviour. If they thought him a troublemaker, then that was what they saw. Very few people looked at Newt and saw him as something more than what he first appeared to be.

Queenie was the first in a long time. Then Tina and Jacob. 

Newt felt like Mister Graves might be the fourth person to see that there was more to him that first appeared.

A ringing chime echoed across the desert causing Newt to look up at the artificial sky. It was dark, mimicking dusk out in the Arizona desert, but it was still bright enough for Newt to see the silhouettes of plants and rocks on the ground. With one last look at the enclosure, wondering if Frank was happy in Arizona, Newt turned away and headed towards his shed and the ladder out of the case.

Theseus was calling him and if Newt didn't go to his brother, he knew that Theseus would come to him and they'd lose track of time and end up in his case for hours. They'd done it before, last Christmas, and Newt really had no desire to repeat that fiasco. He didn't want to climb out of his case after three days inside, only to find he'd lost his room to someone else, or, worse, step out to find himself in the middle of MACUSA again.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comments, likes, bookmarks, SLEEP. These are things I like a lot, but what I like most of all is (sleep) knowing that ya'll love this series so much :)


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